Remembrances
by Sara Loui
Summary: In a distant future, a Mallrat looks back on their life, and remembers the beginnings of her tribe.


It's a strange feeling to be sitting, contemplating on my past, how far I've come and the life I've lived. The distant past of another life, evades me sometimes, but at times I see murky images of the faces from before. When the virus hit, and families divided, we walked the earth, mere children forced to grow up before our time. A new way of life develpoped and strangely, we evolved and grew up a new generation. I never expected to grow this old, to be able to sit amongst my extended family. Brothers, sisters, nephews, neices, my own children and grandchildren, their children and gandchildren.

We aged quite beautifully, gracefully despite our hardships of life. Back then life seemed so easy, we learned as we went along. We tend to look back on the old times, at a celebration such as this, a chance for everyone to get together and remember. I look at my son, he is no longer young himself, and has a growing brood of his own, with a stoic wife, ready to support him well in life. How blessed I have been to have him in my life, to grow up the image of his father, even if he inherited his incouragable ability to avoid a situation at any cost, neither deciding one way or another. Perhaps one of the dissapointment was that they didn't know each other, and he has never even seen a picture of him. His idea of him is only from what he has gleaned from me. Of course, there is his step father, whom he dotes on as if he were his real father, and he treated him no differently to our second son and daughters.

It times like this, when we all gather to together in memory of those we set our lives on this course, when I truly feel safe and lucky and yet sad to have lost people along the way. Some are vague memories from long ago etched into my mind for eternity, I have told the stories, our stories to my children and they pass them onto their own. They know of the first Mallrats, when we came together as one, unknowing of each other, uncertain of our future. A cord of distrust ran between us for a time, as we forced ourselves to accept our situation and live together. But her we are, the few of us, the original group, still together, a bond of continuity which will live on even after were dead and buried.

The stories are fairytales to the younger ones, of a virus which spread across the world, as man became over eager for a chance to extend life, un wittingly allowing destruction to destroy it and creating new destiny for the next generation. Stories of Locusts, and Demon Dogs, of Guardians and Technos. How we left our home to make a new life, as a virus again set to destroy our way of life, how after years of toiling once more in a new life, we returned home, and rebuilt what had been lost. Of lost friends once more found, and new enemies to fight. It hasnt been easy, but the hopes of us, those of us who remember the beginning of the new life, has caused life to once more go on, We refused to be defeated, I guess my stubborn streak proved to be of some worth in our crisis, even if it caused some to think of me as, how would Zandra put it? "A boring old cow" or something to that effect.

Zandra, I could never quite make her out, she was so full of life, and yet, so, so ditzy. Even now after so many years I still say she was the only one who could correctly control Lex, to some extent. Lex, we lost him last year, still a proud haughty man, his edges had softened over the years, and I'd grew far too accustomed to having him around. When we lost him, for a while things seemed to lifeless. We'd always enjoyed reflecting on the past, he of course, always happy to relay his conquests from the death of Zoot, to uprisings, being sheriff, and our favourite pastime as always had been constant, bickering, between two people wo cared more for each other than would let on. Those closest too us knew we had soft spot for each other, revelling in petty arguments, knowing we didnt mean any of the harsh words we'd drop to each other. I find myself still sitting about boredly, wanting nothing better than a jolly argument or two with him.

He had eventually settled down, if you could ever say settled about Lex, and became a father, much too all our surprise. His son married my second daughter, and they would shake their heads at the two of us when we'd get set into an argument over the past. Salene, always the reassuring mother would shake her head at us with a soft smile neither willing to join in the fun, nor leave us to remember the past on our own. She still has her youthful looks, and even now in old age has the same mop of red hair. A mother hen to the end, the children of our tribe adore her, and love to hear stories from her point of view, where she told the truth of the two bickering fools sitting in the corner. Stories of Jack and Dal, and their efforts to help of tribe survive in the mall. Dal, how I miss you sometimes still now old friend. We survived together, until we were united with the mallrats, we stuck together, and you still hold a place in my heart dear friend. And Tai San the stranger who brought Chloe back to us. Tai San was always a strange different part of our life, intriguing to us all, and perhaps was the glue which brought us together, when the Mallrats were truly born.

On our past reflections, Tai San had always been avoided between Lex and I, he never truly gotten over her, she'd gotten under his skin, mystified him. Although he had settled down eventually, Tai San was never far from him as my true love was never far from me. But Ryan, Salene would talk about Ryan always, how bumbling he was, but a somewhat knight in shining armour also. She had no qualms about revelaing her difficulties in life, of her struggles, how Ryan helped her, saved her from a journey of destruction. She relayed stories of the Eco's, of Pride, the woman has a memory like an elephant, every detail, every moment.

There are so many to remember, and so many to relay their stores too. Pasty's daughter started to write all our stories down, and some of the other children and grandchildren continue to do so, determined that the future will remember the happenings of the past. If my memory starts to wan of their images and stories, I can merely turn to Salene for help or pick up a book and read of them. We lie in the leaves of pages, ever etched in history, our names are all there, the Mallrats.

Their names jump up at me, and the past captures me into its open arms. Trudy, we came such a long way together and dear little Brady, not so little now, but you mother would be so proud of you. Patsy and Chloe. Dear Paul, we never truly knew the truth of your dissappearance and Patsy still speaks of you, even now teaching the little ones sign langauge, a constant reminder of you. Zandra and Ryan, Salene and Dal. Jack, still a master at creating things you old goat and Ellie still by your side, helping in your endevours. KC, Lex was so proud, a perect little soldier for him to mould. Tai San, you had your weird vibes sometimes, but perhaps we needed your strange ways to keep us centered, perhaps Lex has finally found you. Dear Lex we grew from tolerance to friendship to family together. And Ebony, still the fesity wild woman you always were, although Slade has managed to calm your charms some, and your children have certainly inherited your nature.

The pages are filled with their stories, and as I turn them my eyes cannot help but mist up with tears. You were all so important in the grand scheme of my life, and I doubt I'd be here without you all. I can't help but pause every now and then as my eyes fall upon his name. Bray, your with me now, at least in my heart, under my skin perhaps. Your son has grown into a fine young man, the image of you, you would be so proud. I may not speak of you often, in the same respect that Lex would never speak of Tai San. I am happy in my life, my husband has stayed by my side, and I have a new love for him. But I remember you always, and perhaps there is a day soon when we'll be together again. The days will come when the last of the orginal Mallrats will die and our new generation will carry on our name. I sometimes look forward to that day, when we all reunite again. Together like we used to be, ready to watch over the tribe.

Well I can hear them calling, Salene will come soon looking concerned as usual if I do not stir myself from my memories. I close the book my dears, but you know you in my heart. I can hear Bray calling, for his old doddering mother, too lost in her past to hurry to his call. His father, darling Jay, will probably be waiting patiently behind him, shaking his head in a familiar way, aware Amber always move at her own pace. 


End file.
